by | | Guyster, Guyster
Billy would’ve turned forty-four today. I’d have booked a dinner for us at a restaurant that he’d think was too expensive, and I’d cajole him into ordering the New York strip despite his protests that it cost too much. Before dinner, though, back home in...
by | | Guyster, Guyster
Every time he protests, “It¹s not the same as it used to be,” I know exactly what he means. When we lived here before, there were the great churches of dance–Twilo, The Tunnel, Roxy–shirtless nights spent in sweat and lights and the relentless thump of Junior Vasquez....
by | | Guyster, Guyster
That laugh… Billy, Dom and Anthony Squint
by | | Guyster, Guyster
Before the term “photobomb” was coined, Billy and I were invited to a post-Grammy party at the Four Seasons Restaurant in NYC. We lived there then–me at APA and Billy at Goldman-Sachs–on the 33rd floor in an apartment building with an unobstructed view of...
by | | Guyster, Guyster
We met Bob Slobbers at an adoption fair held in a pet store a few miles from our house. The dogs were set up in a semi-circle, almost like a therapy group, in front of their individual crates. Billy and I split up strolling around, reading their brief bios in front of...
by | | Guyster, Guyster
IMG_7641 IMG_7638 IMG_2763 IMG_7642 IMG_2762 IMG_7639 IMG_6107 IMG_7640 IMG_6108...
